Drabbles from Mr Spock's Lexicon
by KitchenWitch1994
Summary: Spock is perfectly capable of using big words, and so am I. So here are a bunch drabbles based off of them. Any genre, any universe, all K/S goodness. Now with plot!
1. Chapter 1

_These first five drabbles are written in honor of Leonard Nimoy, who turns 81 on the day of their posting. Live long and prosper, Mr. Nimoy._

* * *

><p><strong>Tellurian<strong>

He could feel the half-foreign pulse of emotion even from several rooms away. Spock allowed himself one disapproving huff before walking towards it, intent on calmly bringing the offending crewman to his senses and carrying on.

Without walking in, Spock saw Kirk slouched against the wall. The waves of listless heartbreak rolled away from his tan skin in steady streams.

Wordlessly he walked into the room and sat next to Kirk. When the blond looked surprised, Spock only replied, "I am here."

Kirk let their shoulders touch. The emotion rolled on, and Spock sensed a faint thankfulness for the company.

* * *

><p><strong>Adroit<strong>

As much as Jim liked watching Spock lean over tables, it was more intriguing to watch his fingers working. The thin appendages moved like dancers on a stage, so perfectly fluid in movement that it was hypnotic. It was just as fascinating when those fingers lay on the table next to him, like now, moving at an almost infinite slowness towards his own. Jim couldn't help but smile, couldn't help but reach for Spock's hand as soon as he saw the movement; the flare of the bond between them and Spock's faint surprise at that moment was the perfect touch.

* * *

><p><strong>Lucent<strong>

Jim jumped up from the bed, raced towards the window, and threw open the curtains. "Spock, look!" he breathed excitedly, looking back at the Vulcan with a giddy smile. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Spock smiled imperceptibly. The sunrise _was_ spectacular, a great white orb appearing to rise behind a smaller orb. But he was not watching that. He was watching the sunlight permeate Jim's golden hair and skin, making it glow. It stole into his eyes too, eyes already glimmering in excitement, and gave them a brilliant shine like polished sapphires.

"Yes," he murmured, still gazing at Jim. "Yes, it is."

* * *

><p><strong>Placid<strong>

At first, Jim didn't like staying quiet for any reason. It felt empty to him, even with Spock there beside him. He finally mentioned it to Spock, asked if there was something wrong.

Without speaking, Spock held his thin fingers to Jim's temples. There was a gentle burn, followed by the tendril of touch. Color spilled into thought, matched the emotion: ruby red for passion, muted white for joy, cerulean blue for curiosity. Underneath it all was an undercurrent of pure, glowing gold that needed no name.

A quiet understanding passed between them, and they sat in un-empty silence together.

* * *

><p><strong>Neoterism<strong>

"What do we call us?"

"You desire a term other than 'lover'?"

"We're more than that," Jim said simply. He curled inwards towards Spock's abdomen, putting an ear against it and listening to the steady heartbeat.

"Do you wish to invent a word?" Spock asked, brushing a lock of hair from Jim's brow.

Jim smiled winningly up at him. "I was hoping you'd come up with something, smarty-pants."

Spock considered briefly. "Vulcans have one word that can translate to 'soulmate.' It is lover, brother, and friend. _T'hy'la."_

Jim tested the word on his tongue before smiling. _"T'hy'la_. I like it."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: This idea very likely isn't mine. For sure I know the amazing <strong>Tech Duinn <strong>has been doing it long before me (her series is called "100," and you should read it). Nonetheless, I felt the need to release something today. I did a quasi-birthday fiction for Shatner, didn't I? It's only fair, more than fair, I do the same for Mr. Nimoy. Even if it's drabbles._

_To be honest, this is a little bit of filler, but I hope you all enjoy it the same. I put as much into these things as I do the rest of my work, but if I'm low on separate fictions, I'll update this. Also, this won't be my only update this week: I have a legitimate one-shot coming out Friday morning, so stay tuned!_

_Much thanks to 's "Word of the Day" section for providing me with these words, most of which I should remember from my SAT prep courses not a year ago. Thanks also to my beta **xladyjagsvolleyball16x, **to my love **disciple65 **for grammar editing, and of course, to all of you wonderful readers who keep me going. I really hope you like these!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Susurrus**

Jim charged towards the hotel room bed, landing with a _whump _on top of it. "I love hotels!" he cried, voice muffled by mattress.

Spock set the suitcases down coolly. "Why, may I ask?"

Jim rolled over and held up a corner of bedsheet. "These sheets, Spock. They're _satin_ here."

Spock walked over and let his slim fingers whisper against the creamy fabric. A bright green blush bloomed in his cheeks. "They have a rather pleasurable texture," he murmured.

Jim's eyes lit up. He drew Spock close, nuzzled his throat and cheek, and purred, "Can I see just _how _pleasurable?"

* * *

><p><strong>Lascivious<strong>

_Jim._

_Mmm? _An innocent hum resonated over the meld.

_Do not press me._

_But _Spock, _I want you…_ An image transmitted—a naked and flushed-faced Kirk, sprawled against wrinkled blue sheets.

_I know._

Kirk pouted across the negotiation table. Spock felt a gentle kick at his leg from under the tabletop, and the connection started fading.

Spock sighed imperceptibly and touched his foot to Kirk's leg. _After these negotiations, I shall make it up to you._

_How?_

Spock imagined his tongue laving wildly over Kirk's erect shaft. In response, the blond turned bright red and excused himself from the negotiations.

* * *

><p><strong>Nexus<strong>

The melding was, to both of them, the best part of making love. It always happened just before the end, sometimes accidentally, when the sear of connection thrummed over their skin. After that they were one in every way. And they could feel _everything_ at once together—the moist heat of mouths in mid-kiss, the heightened sound of heartbeats mixed with heavy breathing, the tingling shot of electricity going up the spine with each thrust, the indescribable explosion of simultaneous pleasure. Afterwards, when they'd rested, they would just lie next to each other, never separating until they fell asleep together.

* * *

><p><strong>Plaudits<strong>

After a final tremor Jim collapsed back against the mattress, panting and pulling Spock on top of him. "Oh, god, _Spock," _Jim moaned. He was absolutely seeing stars.

The Vulcan in question panted and gently kissed his lover's neck. "I do not see where your deity is involved."

Jim laughed shakily. "It's a compliment."

"How so?"

Jim's fingers raked through Spock's glossy black hair. "Oh, _god, _Spock, that was the most mind-blowing orgasm I've ever had in my entire fucking _life. _I'm begging for more_."_

Spock seized Jim's mouth with a sudden voracity. "Now _that_ is a compliment," he purred.

* * *

><p><strong>Lissom<strong>

Even when he awoke first, Spock preferred to feign sleep as long as possible. That way he could watch, eyes half-open, as Kirk slowly came to. It was a fascinating ritual. The blond would yawn expansively and sit up, careful not to disturb his "sleeping" lover. Then he would slowly stretch every muscle of his upper body. The tanned skin of his abdomen would ripple slightly and glisten, still flecked with rivulets of the previous night's sweat.

When Spock could no longer stand watching, he "awoke" and proceeded to kiss that perfect musculature until both of them were spent again.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: Rating change, obviously! Oh, goodness, the smut. Much thanks to my lovely beta <strong>xladyjagsx<strong> for editing and such, and as always to those of you who read my fictions. (I'm really happy y'all are reading these too, just letting you know.)_

_Also, I know I'm late, really late, but in my defense I had a really long weekend-slash-day. Actually, a long couple of weeks-play practices are piling up, so I've had little time to myself to think straight. Ergo, I'm also running a smidge behind on fictions at this point, or behind on my schedule of keeping a few steps ahead. If I don't post a more legitimate fiction this week, it's because I need a break. _

_Oop, I've been rambling. It ceases now! So stop listening to me complain and go read some fanfiction!_


	3. Chapter 3

_This chapter is dedicated to **alexdcl **and to **DevilishBea **as thanks for adding me to their favorite authors lists. You're the first two non-betas to add me! I can't thank you enough._

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><p><strong>Hypnagogic<strong>

Surprisingly, Kirk was something of an insomniac. Tonight he was in Spock's room, wearing pajamas and asking for, of all things, a bedtime story.

Spock allowed it, however, and started reading from _The Hobbit_. After ten paragraphs, Kirk's sleep-heavy cranium fell into Spock's lap. The Vulcan looked down, intending to rouse the captain, but before he could move Kirk let out a soft sigh, and a lock of blond hair fell onto the now-peaceful brow.

Spock allowed himself a wistful smile. He put the book down, nestled more comfortably into the couch without disturbing Kirk's repose, and tried to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Espy<strong>

The hearing had not been the first time Spock had seen him. He had been passing through the quad between classes and had spied Kirk running on the green, arms raised as a slim plastic disc fell towards him. Even from the distance Spock could see the blue eyes sparkle in anticipation, focusing on nothing but impending catch. His legs tensed suddenly and he sprang into the air, easily snatching up the Frisbee. The surrounding crowd clapped as he landed.

What had made the sight extraordinary for Spock had been the dazzlingly broad, post-landing grin that spread over Kirk's lips.

* * *

><p><strong>Incipient<strong>

The relocation to New Vulcan began it. The _Enterprise _was heading the transport of refugees by shuttle, and Jim and Spock were manning a shuttle together. One of their passengers, a toddler, was whimpering softly.

Before Jim could turn around, Spock was at the boy's side. "Where are your parents?" he asked softly. The boy only shook his head.

Without a word, Spock hoisted the child into his arms. He started to bounce him on his hip, humming a lullaby Jim didn't recognize. Jim's heart melted at the sight, and he turned to the control panel to hide a smile.

* * *

><p><strong>Vestige<strong>

Jim tore open a chocolate drop and messily popped the whole thing into his mouth. "It's been a long day," he groaned.

Spock raised an eyebrow, observing the spectacle. "And that allows you to ignore table manners?"

Jim made an indignant noise, and a splatter of chocolate flew onto his face. With a disapproving "tsk," Spock leaned across the table to wipe away the offending smudge.

Even under the brief contact Jim's cheek blushed a warm, attractive pink. Spock licked his lips and, without thinking, kissed the flushed skin. To his vague amusement, there was no chocolaty aftertaste at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Claque<strong>

Sometimes Jim hated being naturally attractive. He was making his way to the Jeffries tubes, this time to meet Spock for lunch. Right before the doors closed, ten bubbly female ensigns piled in, cooing and surrounding him like sharks. By the time the lift made it to the right floor Jim was developing a migraine and having trouble breathing.

Spock, of course, was waiting right outside the lift entrance, eyebrow appropriately raised as Jim struggled out from the mass of girls. Without saying a word, he grabbed Jim's hand, entwined their fingers, and led him away from the now-gaping crowd.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: Oh, you guys, you are all so very wonderful! I checked the traffic stats, and so far Drabbles has 325 hits for this month alone. That's second only to Chess Game! I'm really happy you're loving these little blips as much as you love my regular fictions, and I seriously cannot thank any of you guys enough for it. Hopefully, for the moment, some fluff will suffice.<em>

_Thanks again to my darling beta **xladyjagsvolleyball16x **for doing her usual fantastic work. Next part of the "Very" one-shot series will be realeased this Friday, so stay tuned!_

_PS: Not to be a profile ho or anything, but I've got a couple polls going up about what you would like to see me write more of. One poll concerns story content, and the othe concerns story type. Check out my profile and see what choices you've got-and vote, of course!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Canorous**

Spock knew for a fact that Kirk had never participated in any choirs on Earth. Nonetheless, the man's voice, when tested, was not terribly unmelodious.

This fact was discovered on one of those rare occasions when Spock was operating slower than Kirk. The Vulcan was showering when his ears picked up on the muted melody of Coldplay's "Viva la Vida," being sung _a cappella_ from his living quarters. Kirk was on the chorus, singing the same octave as Chris Martin.

"…_But that was when I ruled the world…"_

Spock chuckled inwardly. _Of course _you_ would pick that song, _he thought.

* * *

><p><strong>Succor<strong>

Killer migraines were, sadly, part of Jim's daily life, at least until Spock noticed him one day, curled up in the dark of his ready room with his head in his hands. In a rare moment of semi-public tenderness, the Vulcan came up behind him and placed his fingers against Jim's temples—not to meld, but to massage in gentle, slow circles. After a few minutes the migraine vanished, and Jim lolled backward into Spock's hands, murmuring soft assent.

The movements ceased suddenly, leaving Jim dazed. Spock mumbled something about continuing privately before he left the room, cheeks burning emerald.

* * *

><p><strong>Puckish<strong>

Spock's voice was raised. "James! Where are my clothes?"

Kirk, clad only in a bathrobe, shrugged innocently from his seat.

The move was unconvincing. Spock crossed his arms and glared at the blond. "I have not simply misplaced them. Where are they?"

The captain's smirk was poorly concealed. "Well," he drawled, "if you ask nicely, I'll find them for you."

"_Nicely?"_ Spock repeated.

In easy reply, Kirk lounged further into his chair, robe slipping away to reveal his well-toned thighs. The wink and sly grin that followed were devious but unnecessary, as Spock was fully prepared to ask _very _nicely.

* * *

><p><strong>Effloresce<strong>

Jim leaned towards the potted plant, inspecting its dark, tightly-closed buds. "Hey, Spock? What's this called?"

Spock gave his hair another vigorous rub with the towel before responding. "We call that _eshikh'vaksur_, which translates literally as 'desert beauty.'"

Jim nodded even though he still didn't see it. "Well…it's pretty."

Spock shook his head. Without turning his head, he whistled a series of four notes. The bud bloomed wide open on cue, as if to better hear Spock's voice, revealing ruby-red petals shot with glimmering gold.

Jim's eyes widened considerably, momentarily rendered speechless. "It's gorgeous."

"Good. It's a gift to you."

* * *

><p><strong>Caparison<strong>

"Do I _have_ to wear this?"

"Yes, if you wish to be admitted to the ambassador's ball," Spock answered, smoothing his tuxedo jacket one more time for good measure.

"But it's so _awkward_," Kirk whined, voice not quite muffled by the bathroom door.

Spock huffed. "Let me see."

The door swung open and Kirk reluctantly stepped out. His tuxedo was perfectly tailored, so that the dark cloth did not stretch over the broad shoulders, and the cummerbund only fully accentuated the well-toned abdomen.

Spock's breathing hitched as he stepped forward to straighten Kirk's tie. "You look wonderful, Jim. Absolutely _wonderful."_

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: I actually have very little to say about this one. These are coming along fairly easily now, and there's no one to really dedicate to. Once again thanks and love to all my readers and to my beta <strong>xladyjagsvolleyball16x<strong> for the constant support. I seriously couldn't do this without you guys._


	5. Chapter 5

**Xenophilia**

They were sitting together in the mess when one of the Orion ensigns walked in. All the men turned to watch approvingly as she passed, including—to Spock's distaste— Jim. His gaze seemed _too_ approving.

Spock released an irritated huff. Jim turned back around, cocking his head to the side in confusion and asking of his transgression without speaking.

"You know what," the Vulcan hissed, unappeased.

Suddenly Spock felt Jim's hands grab at his from under the table. The meld activated automatically, transferring Jim's silent apology and, strangely, an image of Spock's ears. _Nobody can ever, _ever _beat you, _t'hy'la_._

* * *

><p><strong>Palladium<strong>

They were in Jim's room. Spock's thin fingers traced the swirling patterns of metallic thread against the woven red cloth of the rest of the bracelet. "A curious artifact," he noted, ever scientific. "A trinket from a former lover?"

"From my mother," Jim retorted, defensive and embarrassed. He moved forward and put his hand on the piece. "She's a little superstitious, so she gave me this."

"I do not see where superstition enters the equation," Spock said.

"It's…" Jim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's protection from the Evil Eye."

Spock nodded, thankfully, and said no more.

* * *

><p><strong>Moschate<strong>

For a half-Vulcan, Spock had a very acute sense of smell. Occasionally it drove him to irritation and headaches, like when their away missions involved exploring bogs. But when he and Jim had spent themselves entirely, or when they were just curled together in peaceable embrace, Spock couldn't avoid Jim's natural scent. The best way to describe it was, put simply, _masculine_—a combination of finished leather, crushed pine, and an undercurrent of musk that, miraculously, was not overpowering. And every time, without fail, Spock would press closer to his lover to memorize another note of that mysterious, inimitable scent.

* * *

><p><strong>Bonhomie<strong>

Even without his uniform on, people listened to Jim. This was true even in Paris, in the tiny bistro he'd brought Spock for dinner. Their waitress quickly developed a habit of curtsying whenever Jim was finished giving an order, the latest time after ordering a bottle of merlot.

Spock watched the girl go, eyebrow appropriately raised. "How do you do it?" he asked.

Jim leaned back slightly in his chair, draping his arms over the back. "I guess I'm just naturally charming?" he offered.

Spock gave a faint smile as he surveyed the captain. "Very much so, sir," he noted.

* * *

><p><strong>Palliation<strong>

Sound sleep was sometimes hard in coming. Spock tended to wake in the middle of the night, hounded by nightmares of Vulcan's destruction. Jim, in turn, tended to toss and turn in his sleep, usually right into Spock's waiting arms. The action was small, something that could have gone unnoticed, but it was more comforting than Jim knew.

But perhaps he _did_ know. Some nights he would wake, very briefly, in Spock's arms, and murmur unintelligibly. Colors, warm and rich in hue, would pass between their half-linked minds, but only for a second before Jim fell back into stony sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: Miraculously I managed to churn these out in the span of a few hours, so as far as that goes, I hope these are up to your standards. I'm slowly working on sending thanks out for all the faves I've received over the last few days; I was gone on a school-related trip and haven't had internet access for as long, and my data has been slim. I'm also working on this week's story and the <em>very _important announcement that's coming along with it. Seriously, stay tuned!_

_Once again many thanks to my darling beta **xladyjagsvolleyball16x, **who still has yet to change her pen name to something shorter. As always, thanks to all my readers, listed or unlisted, for everything you do. I swear I wouldn't get anything done if I didn't have you to please. :)_


	6. Chapter 6

**Bedaub**

Spock shook his head, watching over Jim's shoulder as he stirred. "I cannot understand your fondness for chocolate, Jim."

Jim held up the spoon. The liquid fell away in a shiny stream. "You like it too."

"Only under certain circumstances."

Jim smiled. His index finger vanished briefly into the pot before resurfacing, coated with chocolate. He reached up and swept the coated digit across Spock's cheek, leaving a trail behind. Then the finger was gone, replaced by Jim's lips in a soft kiss. "Like now?" he murmured.

Spock only nodded, momentarily breathless as Jim continued to kiss the chocolate away.

* * *

><p><strong>Idyll<strong>

It was just too perfect. Never mind that the flowers could have neurotoxic pollen, or that the grass could be razor-sharp. Jim raced forward into the whole alien meadow, laughing his head off. When he was in the middle of it, he turned around towards Spock, shooting him a gleeful grin.

"Spock, come on!" he called. The surrounding world spun madly, turning all shades of colors as the sun reflected off the flora. The Vulcan was rushing towards him in increasingly slow motion, yelling wordlessly. _Odd, _Jim thought.

It was his last thought before he fell into Spock's outstretched arms.

* * *

><p><strong>Nascent<strong>

After three consecutive rounds of amorous play, Spock was only partially exhausted. The same could not be said for Jim; two minutes after the third session Jim was fast asleep on Spock's chest.

Spock allowed himself a small smile. He reached down and carefully swept a lock of hair away from Jim's forehead. A curious thought occurred to him—they were together, older and no longer in Starfleet, but on Earth, in their own apartment, wearing matching thin bands of gold on their ring fingers. He blushed at the thought.

It was not the last time he would consider marriage.

* * *

><p><strong>Sanctum<strong>

When neither of their rooms was a viable option for privacy, they had one more place: a small, disused lab room. Spock, per his usual genius, had rearranged the door's locking sequence, to something only they knew, and Jim had added a host of large, fluffy pillows to one corner. It was quiet there, and the light was low and blue and soothing. It was soundproofed, too, which was good when troops of ensigns passed them by in the midst of very prolonged foreplay. Although half the crew knew they were together, they didn't want or need the extra attention.

* * *

><p><strong>Portent<strong>

It didn't take Vulcan super-hearing to catch the deafening, delighted squeal from several tables over. The girl had her hands over her heart, and Jim could vaguely spot the glinting diamond ring.

"Illogical."

Jim turned. Spock's eyebrow was raised as he observed the spectacle. "Such a public display of emotion is considered boorish to my race," he went on. "Even concerning marriage proposals."

"So _you_ wouldn't jump out your skin if, say…?"

Spock's nostrils flared slightly. "Inwardly, perhaps."

Under the table, Jim's hand fluttered nervously to the velvety black box nestled in his suit pocket. "Inwardly. Of course, Mr. Spock."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: These were nice and fluffy. I had to stop myself from putting in a bunch of smut, with all the word options. Speaking of which, I fear I'm starting to run out of nice, fluffy words. Angry or angsty prompts might be forthcoming.<em>

_Thanks, as always, to my beta **xladyjagsvolleyball16x,** and thanks to my readers who are still hanging on after last week. I hate to be a profile ho, but if you haven't read all my stories, please do! Also check out **Tech Duinn** for some really good work; if you're into Drarry as well (a la Harry Potter), **Cheryl Dyson **is always a good, albeit smutty read. Til next week, duckies!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Punctilio**

Jim just had to ignore it. At least, that's what he told himself whenever he spied Uhura sneaking to the Jeffries tubes to meet an unemotional (Jim hoped begrudging) Spock. Like he was telling himself now.

His grip on the captain's chair armrests tightened as the tube door slid shut. Spock was straight, he reminded himself, and even if Jim _did_ come running at him with open arms the man would brush it off and shove paperwork in its place. No, Jim had to act professionally—smile, act professional, and not cry while the man he loved snogged someone else.

* * *

><p><strong>Epigone<strong>

He could only imagine what it would be like to be with him. Certainly it would be more than scheduled "dates" in the mess, surrounded by crewmates and the romantic atmosphere of a hospital. No, knowing him, it would be something more intimate, a glass of brandy in his quarters. The physical aspect would not be lacking either, because Kirk was someone who cuddled and kissed and held hands regularly. Yes, being with him would be warmer, more natural.

Spock took his seat in the mess, met her gaze and hoped vainly that tonight's farce would have a swift end.

* * *

><p><strong>Abstruse<strong>

They had been working on reports when it happened—the "half-accident." The contact was the accidental half. Spock had learned a long time ago that his feelings for Kirk, were certainly not accidental—just unbidden, noisy, and never-ending. The only thing to his credit was that Kirk had initiated the contact, reaching over for one of the reports at Spock's left just as Spock made the same motion. Their skin had touched, and the sudden shock of contact reached to their minds as well. Spock did his best to contain his thoughts, but to no avail. Kirk had heard everything.

* * *

><p><strong>Discomfit<strong>

Jim lay back against his mattress and stared up at the ceiling, shutting his eyes with a sigh. It wouldn't be _too_ hard to romance a Vulcan, he decided, not if the inclination towards bisexuality was there. Men generally weren't harder to romance than women—quite the opposite, really—and Spock _was _a man. Half-human, but all man, possessed of the same burning desires for sex and sports that Jim had.

Sex. Spock was likely getting that from Uhura.

_Uhura. _Jim reeled. God only knew what she would do to his balls if she caught him flirting with her Vulcan.

* * *

><p><strong>Calescent<strong>

Jim straightened his shoulders and his overshirt front. He had to do it today. It was the last day before their next mission started, the only time he'd ever be able to ask without going against Spock's precious regulations. It was a simple question anyway: Spock, I think you're stunning and would you like to have a drink with me? No strings, not unless Spock wanted them. Easy enough.

He turned left into the hallway. Spock was there alright, his arms wrapped around Uhura's tiny waist mid-kiss. Jim took one look and fled, his eyes stinging with hot, sudden tears.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: Here's your angst, chickadees. I know it's late, but it's been a long weekend involving my mum's birthday (which according to my dad should last all bloody weekend) and all that needed to really be done was beta-ing. Thanks as always to my readers and much-beloved beta, who I'm probably distracting from homework at the moment because I like to twiddle my thumbs for a weekend before sending things to her.<em>


	8. Chapter 8

**Obtest**

"Spock."

The Vulcan did not turn. "It is Starfleet, Jim. What do you expect me to do?"

"Run!" Jim cried. He was dangerously close to tears. "You've given them your life in sciences, and what, now you have to go into combat too? To fight a goddamn army of _Klingons? _It's too dangerous!"

"That would imply I am incapable of defending myself," Spock returned coldly.

"That isn't what I'm—" Jim sighed, spoke again. His voice was still trembling. "I've gone without you too long to lose you now. _Please."_

Spock shook his head. "I can't, Jim." And he left.

* * *

><p><strong>Peradventure<strong>

Jim looked up from his desk, surprised to find Spock sitting next to _him_. "Don't you have a date?" he asked.

Spock didn't answer. He stared straight down at his stack of reports, not seeing anything; his hand, Jim noted with a skittered heartbeat, was very close to Jim's. "We are no longer together."

Jim blinked. "Really?" He looked at Spock's hand and started inching his own towards it. "Can I ask how?—"

"I do not wish to discuss it now." Spock replied sharply.

Jim hastily withdrew. The chance was gone, and there wasn't any sense in pushing it.

* * *

><p><strong>Interstice<strong>

They still fought, sometimes violently, but never to choking attempts. Spock had gained more than enough control of himself to sink to that level again. But for every fight, no matter the weapons, the aftermath was always the same. A week of avoidance, publically and privately. A week of dark, Vulcan glares and regular pouting sessions on Kirk's part. A week of terse, succinct conversations that occurred only when necessary and mirrored the spaces between them. Only when they were both sick of the nervous side glances of the bridge crew would they make up, publically, but not quite privately.

* * *

><p><strong>Timorous<strong>

"That went well!" Jim chirped, looking around at the tired but pleased faces of his away team. Save one, of course. Spock's back was turned, but it still took him longer than normal to put his weapons back on the racks.

Jim caught him right before he left. "You alright?"

"You jumped in front of a _gun_," Spock said, his voice dangerously soft.

Jim shook his head. "I disarmed him just fine, Spock. Everyone's fine."

Spock whirled, his expression more terrified than furious. "Never again," he whispered hoarsely.

Speechless, Jim nodded assent. He'd never seen Spock scared—scared for _him._

* * *

><p><strong>Simulacrum<strong>

Spock opened his eyes blearily but did not move, the back of his skull throbbing where the guard had hit him. Obviously he had failed to escape. Even in the darkness of his cell he could see an addition of jagged rocks to the minimal décor—a deterrent, certainly.

He sighed and shut his eyes. From the reaches of his mind he pulled up the only comfort he'd had for the three days he'd been imprisoned: Jim, golden hair slightly tousled, grinning in his direction.

Spock ground his teeth. Jim would rescue him, of course, but not wearing _that_ smile.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: Finally, some chance to write! Everything's coming along slowly, but eventually. For those who want spoilers, I am continuing the "Very" series. It will contain three more parts before it finishes. I'm also working on a multi-chapter, mostly plot story (no more spoilers on this one) called <em>Hold Your Peace, _the first chapter of which is finished__. But that's all I'm saying! None of this will be released until I'm at least halfway through; sorry! :)_

_Thanks to my beta **xladyjagsvolleyball16x **for being awesome, and to those of you who are still sticking with me through the hiatus. Much love to all of you._


	9. Chapter 9

_This particular chapter is dedicated to my faithful beta **xladyjagsvolleyball16x **not only as part of my reverse graduation gift to her and a symbol of my unending thanks, but also because apparently she really, really liked these. Here's to you, girl!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chagrin<strong>

It was the best game of chicken Jim had ever played, and probably the most twisted. Every time they were both on the bridge, he'd watch Spock for as long as possible before the Vulcan turned around and caught his eye. He had a good score, too; back of head was two points, bent over was ten, and the concentrated look was fifty because it was Spock's most attractive state.

Until, one time, Spock broke his concentration and caught him. Jim had turned about immediately, but he knew he was caught. It was a long time before he played again.

* * *

><p><strong>Strapping<strong>

Uhura may have been holding his hand, but she was not holding his eyes. Those were watching the little yellow ball bounce furiously across the net. Jim's body was constantly poised and ready to strike, fingers pausing only to reassure themselves of their grip on the racquet's white taped handle. When he moved, it was with a grace Spock never knew any human could muster, let alone James Kirk. His blue eyes shone in concentration, and the muscular, well-tanned arms were unerring in their accuracy…

Jim scored another point. Spock shook himself. How was he so distracted by male _anatomy?_

* * *

><p><strong>Quiddity<strong>

Neither Jim nor Spock knew what was wrong with them. They both went to McCoy, on separate occasions, and asked to be observed. Of course, McCoy said, he would find nothing wrong with them, because it was only natural. In turn, they decided it would be natural to huff and, in Jim's case, start pacing.

McCoy chuckled knowingly. What wasn't natural, he went on, was for him to observe physical symptoms of basic physical attraction. Both were shocked, and asked, slowly, what they could do. McCoy had no answers; he only shrugged and left them to cope with the realization.

* * *

><p><strong>Autochthonous<strong>

Spock observed from a distance, fingers steepled. The native girl was trussed up in front of them, watching silently as Jim paced. They had been trying for an hour to decipher her totally alien language to discover the location of a missing crewman. She was their only lead.

"Look, Miss," Jim began again. He crouched, his blue eyes meeting her green ones, and held up an abandoned phaser. "Where did you find this?"

The girl suddenly leaned up and kissed Jim, and after twenty seconds they pulled apart. Spock's cheeks flamed an unbidden, inexplicable, and furious emerald at the sight.

* * *

><p><strong>Clandestine<strong>

"I can't."

"No denying it," Bones replied. "Why else would you be hiding in sick bay with me?"

Jim shook his head. "But I'm _straight! _How can I think Spock is so…so…"

"Bisexuality ring any bells, Jim?"

"And what's the _point?" _Jim vaulted off the empty bed and started pacing. "How can I go up to Spock, one of my best friends and a _Vulcan_, for chrissake, and tell him that for some inexplicable reason, I'm in _love_ with him?"

"Um, Jim?" Bones started nervously.

Jim whirled. Spock was standing in the open doorway, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. _Shit._

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: So, much to the never-ending gratitude of my beta, I actually finished these before the Monday deadline cropped up like wheat after ten minutes in Minecraft. (I've been watching a lot of Zero Punctuation on Youtube, if you know what that is, so pardon me if I sound a little too much like Yahtzee on an extra dose of snark.) I do think these were fairly fun to write, but the angst has, at some point, got to give way. Therefore I don't think I'll be putting much more in that category for a while, and put more along the lines of "awkward." You'll probably see what I mean next week.<em>

_As for my continuing hiatus, it's going. Very. Very. Slowly. I haven't had half as much time to write as I thought I would, nor have I had the motive or creativity, because apparently a week of essentially doing nothing in class after three hours of grueling AP exams has drained all but my will to live. Suffice it to say that I have very little that I want to release finished and beta'd at this point, let alone started. New ideas keep cropping up though, so all I can ask at this point is that you please, please bear with me as I slowly gather the pieces of my brain and attempt to put them back together with a combination of pencil lead and Superglue.  
><em>

_Thank you, as always to my beta and readers for putting up with my schpeel for another week. Oh, by the way, I've a challenge for you guys. First registered member to catch the _Teen Titans_ reference I plopped in here AND use Private Message to tell me which word it was filed under gets the dedication in the next set of Drabbles, as well as a "request drabble" which I will tell the winner more about later. Have fun, and don't disembowel each other over it!  
><em>

_AUTHOR'S NOTES EDIT: The _Teen Titans_ challenge has been met! Sorry, folks, but you'll have to wait for the next one! Yes, next one, because I like these kinds of things for some reason. Gives me more incentive to write. Until next Monday, duckies!  
><em>


	10. Chapter 10

_This week's set of drabbles is dedicated to **BlackDeath6**, the winner of my _Teen Titans_ challenge from last week. Your drabble is best for last, doll, so enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Cumulus<strong>

Jim knew well and good he was caught, but thankfully it didn't show when Spock pulled him into a deserted corridor near the mess. Their eyes met, and the look from the Vulcan was enough to make him feel like running away like a middle school girl from her crush.

"Explain."

The words tumbled from Jim's mouth at warp five, altogether making little to no sense strung together. Something about how Spock was an amazing and talented man, how he wouldn't dare jeopardize their friendship to flirt, how Jim "appreciated" both genders regardless—

Spock cut him off. "That will do."

* * *

><p><strong>Pother<strong>

Spock gritted his teeth, glaring beyond the video screen. "How is it possible that I _reciprocate_ his feelings?" he asked. "Uhura and I—"

The elder Spock cut him off before he could finish. "Do you truly connect to her?"

Young Spock wrinkled his nose. "Connect?"

Elder Spock inclined his head. "Do you feel as though you understand her, can anticipate her thoughts the way—excusing my presumptuousness—you can with Jim?"

"And that determines how I feel towards him?" asked young Spock bitterly.

"Of course not," answered the elder. "That is determined by the human courtship ritual of dating."

* * *

><p><strong>Ingeminate<strong>

_Thunk._

Bones looked over and sighed. "Jim, that's not going to help."

_Thunk._

"You're killing what few brain cells you have left," he added.

"What else do I do, Bones?" _ Thunk._

"Listen to my advice. Again."

"Like it'll help," Jim muttered.

Bones ignored him and started his now-all-too-familiar rant. "So he knows you like him. So he doesn't like you back. Maybe he hates you for it. So what? Just do what you do at bars: find another."

"It's not _like_ that," Jim groaned, launching himself from the wall to pace. "He's not some one-night stand. He's more than that."

* * *

><p><strong>Ambulatory<strong>

Spock was not one to pace, but now he felt there was no better way to expend his energy. His train of thought was as circular as the path he had traced around his quarters, all doubling back to the center: _I do not like James Kirk. I do _not _like James Kirk._

His pacing ground to a sudden halt. That statement was not wholly factual, he decided. He _did _like Kirk, but he did not, _could _not fantasize doing more with him.

An unbidden image appeared in his mind and he groaned. Now _that _statement was not factual either.

* * *

><p><strong>Libation<strong>

As soon as Spock stepped from the turbolift, Jim launched himself off his chair. In the loudest and cheeriest voice he could manage, he called to the bridge on his way out, "Time for my break. Spock has the conn!" He didn't bother to look at his first officer for confirmation as he left. He couldn't, really.

Once the turbolift doors closed he sighed. At least Spock hadn't told anyone else about Jim's…feelings. Still, the glares and distance were like knives to the heart. Luckily, Scotty had perfected the cure.

Jim's face contorted in a grimace. He needed that drink.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Bonus: <em>Supplant**

Jim didn't cry when the sword cut him, nor when he hit the ground bloody and reeling. Nonetheless, Spock was at Jim's side, tenderly reaching to touch his injured forearm, before the latter could seethe in pain. Jim shook his head like a man possessed. Sensing Spock's mental probe, he thought vehemently in that direction: _We _have_ to win this challenge._

Spock nodded curtly, dark eyes full of fury. Silently he stood, took up Jim's discarded weapon and, lifting it as though it weighed nothing, pointed it at their foe. "I fight in his stead," he said evenly, and charged.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: Graduation was two days ago, so I managed to drill most of these out the night before posting. "Libation," being the last written, was toughest to write, though I got my inspiration from drinking a fair smidge of Mike's Hard Lemonade. Not likely to do that again, as it gives me acid reflux and allows all my friends to make fun of me. Hopefully no worse effects on me, though the same cannot be said of Jim at this stage in the relationship.<em>

_Before I go to the credits, I have to talk about my hiatus. AGAIN. My initial guesstimate of how long it would take me to come up with material has been, so far, entirely wrong. I'll only provide one example-slash-spoiler: I've been working on the same PWP one shot for over a week and I can't leap over the road block of describing Jim stripping in front of Spock at an ungodly slow pace. It's that bad. I feel horrible for saying this, but I'm taking the summer to myself. Maybe writing at a more leisurely pace will help, and hopefully I'll have time to stock up on legitimate story before school starts in August. I can understand you wanted to kill me for this, but I do have a horrible crack fic, to be posted whenever I'm done with a chapter, to keep you satisfied. Or you'll spit out the crack fic and gobble down the drabbles to disguise the taste. Either way, I'm going to post something other than drabbles. YAY._

_Thanks to my lovely beta **xladyjagsvolleyball16x**, who seriously gave me the best graduation gift EVER. (I know you can't see it, but it's a TOS style uniform, in sciences blue, with long sleeves and a skirt. I have to twiddle with the rank stripes, but otherwise I couldn't be happier.) And, as always, thank you sincerely to my readers, whether you fave, review, or neither. I love you all._


	11. Chapter 11

**Preoccupation**

Spock's eyes snapped open for what felt like the fifteenth time that night. In a fit of supreme irritation he disengaged himself from his meditation position and began pacing about the room as he had been an hour ago. He had never felt the illogical compunction to swear come upon him as strongly as it did now. Of course, he reasoned, one should expect such compunction when besotted with James Tiberius Kirk.

A low growl, mixed with an unintelligible Vulcan curse, escaped Spock's lips at that point. Why, why, _why _couldn't he concentrate on something else for just one second?

* * *

><p><strong>Quaff<strong>

At this point, the only clue to how much of the bottle Jim had downed were the intensity of his hiccups. Not that it had done anything to alleviate his crushing sense of heartache, or for the continual progression of images cycling through his brain of Spock wearing nothing but uniform trousers. _Fuck it, _he thought, standing tipsily and making for his room's version of a wet bar. _If I wanted that I could've looked for Vulcan porn._

The thought was enough to make him stop in his tracks. _Well, _he thought, _it's the best idea I've had all night._

* * *

><p><strong>Histrionic<strong>

There was something about the feel of a physical book, versus the archives stored on the consoles aboard the _Enterprise_, that Spock preferred_. _There was something artful and warm about a book, bound in richly decorated cardboard, regardless of whether the book was seated neatly on a shelf or being tossed around by a histrionically infuriated Vulcan.

Transference, Spock knew, was used to demonstrate a character's mental state by projecting it onto the setting. If the mess on the floor before him was any indication, Spock was most definitely not thinking straight. Not quite a raging thunderstorm, but nonetheless effective.

* * *

><p><strong>Alveolate<strong>

There was only one thing that fit Jim's search results, so he clicked it and closed his eyes. His brain did all the footwork, conjuring up images of Spock, pale skin gleaming with sweat, passionately writhing against what could have been a shag rug for all Jim cared and calling his name. It only took a few minutes before Jim hit climax, panting out "Spock" in a fist-pumping frenzy and letting his release splash against his torso.

With a bitter sigh, Jim let his trembling body collapse back on the bed. He felt hollow, and he knew vaguely, precisely why.

* * *

><p><strong>Tempestuous<strong>

Spock did not have a restful night. Even after taking the appropriate dose of sleeping pills, he discovered that even after several hundred years, Terran medication still carried side effects. The dreams were the worst, he decided later. Every one of them seemed to center around the feeling of running from something that was always two steps ahead of him, something that eventually caught him, pushed him over, and sat on his chest until he awoke in reality, gasping for breath. It happened more than once, every time leaving Spock questioning whether he truly needed sleep for the next week.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Bonus Bollocks: <em>Hallucination**

Zachary Quinto wrinkled his slightly snub nose, eyes still glued to the computer screen. "Well," he mused, "that's interesting." Reaching for his phone, he automatically started tapping out a text to Chris Pine, J.K. Rowling and George Takei. "I'm not really sure if you'd want to see this," he muttered, "but here you go: KitchenWitch1994 on FanFiction."

_It was at this point the author awoke in a terrified sweat, surrounded by tangled bed sheets and the darkness of 2:48 AM. "I feel a disturbance in the force," she reported to her overweight cat. After a pause, she added, "Wrong reference."_

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: Sorry these took so long. Orientation was the butt end of this week, and I managed to finish these around ten this morning only to wait, dutifully, for some of my beta's time when she's not frolicking about out of town. So I'm writing this essentially not knowing when it will be posted. Urm. Yay, I finished them?<br>_

_Don't even start on the bonus drabble. I've no idea what came over me, except these were hard to write and I needed a break. Also, I'm pretty miffed (putting it nicely) for realizing seven hours after the fact that Zachary Quinto turned 35 this week and I didn't make something for it. Consider the mention a really bad consolation gift, ZQ. I know you deserve much better, but right now you'll have to suck it up until I finish something even crazier than a blatantly broken fourth wall.  
><em>

_As always, thanks to **xladyjagsvolleyball16x** for being an awesome beta, and to all my readers, favers, alerters, and reviewers. Much, much love to you all, no matter how irritated I may be!  
><em>


	12. Chapter 12

**Cognizant**

"Well, that's certainly something."

Spock jerked very forcefully awake. Doctor McCoy was standing at the foot of his bed, arms crossed and head wagging back and forth. "I was pretty damned sure Vulcans don't sleep."

"That is incorrect, doctor," Spock replied, quick to rearrange himself into his usual cool demeanor. "Vulcans require sleep, but unlike humans, we are not required to sleep every day to regain energy."

"Well, I'm pretty sure I've never seen a Vulcan thrash around in his sleep like you were." The doctor's eyes betrayed a knowing gleam that made Spock turn away, dangerously close to embarrassment.

* * *

><p><strong>Hangdog<strong>

The morning after his adventures on the internet, Jim had extreme difficulty looking at Spock for longer than a millisecond. The alcohol hadn't damaged his short-term memory, so he remembered everything in _excruciating_ detail. It was absolutely horrible. He couldn't so much as look at Spock's ass without remembering some pornographic image he'd conjured, and consequently feeling guilty as hell.

Not that the Vulcan noticed the change. He seemed to have come to his own silent conclusion, the details of which Jim only guessed were "Leave me alone, and I'll do the same for you." Even so, Jim was grateful.

* * *

><p><strong>Circumvent<strong>

"You know, I woke up Spock this morning."

Some of Jim's coffee went down the wrong tube. "You…you what?" he choked.

"Yeah. Tossed and turned right up to when I spoke to him, and then he jerked up like from a nightmare. Poor man," Bones added, smirking over his coffee mug. "I doubt he's sleeping well. Wonder why?"

Eyes watering, Jim looked at his friend. The doctor's normal scowl was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by an odd look that Jim didn't want to fathom too deeply. Instead Jim coughed, eyes darting back to his report. "Yeah. Wonder why."

* * *

><p><strong>Valediction<strong>

"You won't tell me what's wrong."

"There is nothing to be said, Nyota."

Spock looked towards her, expecting a visible reaction, but instead the lieutenant was oddly silent. Perhaps he had insulted her somehow. "Have I said something incorrect?"

Nyota shook her head, rising from her seat. "Not incorrect," she replied. "Just… fitting."

"Fitting?" One dark eyebrow arched quizzically.

"I should've realized there would always be some kind of distance between us. It didn't hit me until now how big that gap would be." Their eyes met, and Spock suddenly understood everything she meant to say to him. "Goodbye, Spock."

* * *

><p><strong>Dire<strong>

Jim scowled at the view screen. "You're sure, Lieutenant?"

"_Yes sir," _answered the quivering voice of Lieutenant Raymond. _"It purposely caused the avalanche." _There was an audible shudder. _"That _thing_ wanted us trapped. I can only imagine why, from the screams…"_

"Alright, Lieutenant," Jim said quickly. "Hold your positions, and Scotty will beam you up." He closed the comm link and looked up into the expectant faces of his bridge crew, seeking Bones's out in particular. "I'm going down there."

There was a pause. "If that is the case," Spock said, and Jim whirled in shock, "I shall accompany you."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: And we finally begin to move past the angst of not-totally-unrequited-love and into a plot that I never meant to make in the first place! :D Not that I mind having a plot, mind you. It's just that Spock and Kirk took the plot car for a joyride and this is where we wound up.<em>

_I kinda need a break from the angst, honestly, so here's what I'm gonna do. Next week, I'm going to take up to five requests and post them in lieu of my usual drabbles. Send me a PM with a Spirky situation of any kind-fluffy, smutty, whatever; I'll pick the ideas I like best, and write them out. Only one finished drabble per user, though, so as to be fair. Seriously, enter! I loved writing requests the last time, and I can't think of a better way to thank my readers._

_As always, thanks to my beta **xladyjagsvolleyball16x** for beta'ing, and to all my readers for keeping up. Send me ideas and see them posted next week! It'll be fun! It's science!_


	13. Request Week

_****So despite the fact I had to scrounge about my Minecraft server for a couple request ideas, here it is! This is for all my readers, so enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Mord-Sith Rahl<strong>_**: Proxy**

They would be good together, mused the elder Spock. He was watching as their younger counterparts, his and Jim's, the latter laughing beside the more stoic former. It would not be quite the same as it had been with his Jim, but it would be close. As close, perhaps.

Spock turned his head, a smile curving his mouth. Romance was too much to hope for this early in their relationship. They were still too abrasive towards each other for that. But in time, hopefully, they would grow into it, like he had. They would see the other as _t'hy'la~lar_. Eventually.

* * *

><p><em><strong>openbookwithteeth<strong>_**: Liaison**

"Perhaps we should stop."

The human's lips paused, hovering over Spock's collarbone. "You don't mean that."

"And if I do?" Spock rolled out from Jim's embrace, meeting no protest as he sat on the edge of the bed, naked from the waist up. "Our…_affair_ is problematic at best, worthy of court martial at worse."

"It isn't a simple affair."

"Then what _is _it, apart from secret?"

Jim exhaled softly. He reached out, cupped Spock's cheek, turned him until they were looking into each other's eyes. The blue orbs seemed to glow, even in the dim light.

"Let's make it un-secret."

* * *

><p><em><strong>nat13cat<strong>_**: Saccharine**

Jim loved the way Spock wrinkled his nose ever-so-slightly in annoyance. "Marshmallows?"

"Peeps, to be precise," Jim replied, popping one into his mouth.

Spock frowned. "There are little more than aerated, partly caramelized sugar coated in more sugar. Rather monotonous and unhealthy altogether, Captain."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Ever had a marshmallow, Spock?"

"No, of course not."

Jim held up another Peep. "Open up."

Grudgingly, Spock obeyed. Jim set the candy on his tongue, eyes lingering on the sight of instantly-dissolving sugar. Then suddenly Peep and tongue were gone, and Jim was blushing inexplicably.

"How is it?"

Spock paused. "Sweet."

* * *

><p><em><strong>12potato<strong>_**: Scandalmonger**

"Spill."

Jim wasn't the only one to blush. Bones turned ops red and shook his head furiously. "Really, Sulu?"

"Ignore him," Chekov said excitedly. "Ve vant to hear how Spock is…well…"

"In _bed," _Sulu finished, grinning.

Jim chuckled nervously. "I don't know if—"

"Come on, Captain," Sulu urged. "Is he rough, gentle, what? Is he big?"

"I was unaware sex was classified by texture."

Everyone whirled to Spock, who was standing behind Jim, eyebrow raised. The Vulcan's face betrayed no other expression, but his tone was vaguely humorous as he added, "I also believe myself well-endowed, for Jim's tastes."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Vocabulary Geek<strong>_**: Porphyrophobia**

"What color do you want for the living room?" Jim asked, thumbing through color swatches. "The kitchen's gonna be red—"

"We are still in agreement to paint our bedroom blue, correct?" Spock asked coolly, nose buried in his book.

"Of course." Jim smiled. "Since blue seems to turn you on, anyway."

"Mmm." The Vulcan's cheeks flushed a very light green.

"What about purple?" Jim held up an amethyst-toned swatch. "This one's really nice for—"

"No."

Jim shot his husband a quizzical look. "What's wrong with purple, Spock?"

"I dislike purple."

"Okay then," Jim replied, shrugging. "No purple then."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: Took me a bit to decide whether I should pluralize <em>t'hy'la_, but I did because I'm so horribly anal about grammar sometimes. Besides other reasons I won't discuss (because that would be mean), that's about all I have to say about the actual writing, other than THIS WAS SOOOO MUCH FUN LET'S DO IT AGAIN. :3_

_On a more serious note, one of my writer buddies **TechDuinn** got one of her stories taken down by the FF crew for no reason she can discern. I've been lucky enough to skip away unharmed so far, but in any case I'm backing up my stories to the KS Archive, if you know what that is. Their search engine is decent, and I go by the same pen name there as I do here (letter for letter), so if you want to find my stories there, go ahead.  
><em>

_Thanks as always __to my beta **xladyjagsvolleyball16x** and __to my dedicated readers for sticking around. I'm going to be in Disneyworld next week, so I won't be able to post the next set until the week after that. Until then, have fun and keep your fishies clean! No I don't know what I'm saying, go read! _


	14. Chapter 13

**Pensée**

The atmosphere in the transporter room seemed tight—literarily inappropriate terminology, Spock knew, but nonetheless appropriate. The away team stood assembled on the transporter pad, Kirk and Spock both silently mourning the fact that individual transport mounds were only several feet apart. It had been weeks since captain and first officer had physically stood so close together.

Montgomery Scott, to his credit, was remarkably quick in his work. "Alright lads," he chirped. "Coordinates laid in. Energize on your mark, Captain."

The last flash of thought in Spock's mind before transport had him wondering _why_ he had agreed to assist Kirk.

* * *

><p><strong>Picturesque<strong>

After the tingle of transport dissipated, Jim looked around. For a mission that had turned so suddenly deadly, it couldn't have happened on a more gorgeous planet. Snowflakes floated from the heavens to the earth, glittering on the way down, and the trees around them bowed low to accommodate needled arms laden with snow. Fresh snow covered the ground beneath them, muffling Jim's tentative steps. Every so often rocks jutted from the ground, and several large ones crowded together as the back entrance of the cave system Raymond's team had been exploring.

_Pity something in there wanted to eat them._

* * *

><p><strong>Pilikia<strong>

Spock unbuckled his tricorder and began sweeping the cave mouth. "This path appears unobstructed," he reported, "and I detect no life signs for twenty meters."

"Where's Raymond's beast at, then?" Kirk murmured.

"Further inside the cave," offered McCoy. "What about at twenty-five, thirty meters?"

Before Spock could respond, a shrill roar issued from behind him. The away team whirled, phasers drawn, just in time to see a massive, apelike creature sprinting towards them. With remarkable dexterity, the beast snatched one of the ensigns up with prehensile claws and—

Someone pulled Spock's arm backward, and without question he followed the pull.

* * *

><p><strong>Visceral<strong>

"_Run!"_ Jim screamed. Tearing his eyes away from the doomed ensign, he grabbed Spock's arm and made for cover, not realizing he was heading into the cave until he was well inside. Light spotted through holes in the rock, just enough that Jim knew he was heading deep underground.

Another screech echoed across the cave walls. To Jim's horror, the creature was right behind them, foaming and tearing the air before it, reaching for its escaping prey.

Jim didn't think. He shoved Spock behind him, fired his phaser twice at the rock ceiling overhead, and dove to avoid the cave-in.

* * *

><p><strong>Repercussion<strong>

Spock barely managed to grab Kirk and pull them back into the cave before the rocks crashed downwards. They slammed backwards into a solid stone wall well beyond the cave-in, but Spock kept his arm extended protectively across Kirk's torso until the rumbling ceased. When the dust cleared, Spock realized that they were both panting.

"Well," Kirk said, "I think we squashed it."

"As comforting as the thought is, we need to get out," Spock replied. "Contact McCoy and alert him—"

Kirk shook his head. "Regular communications range won't work this far down. We're stuck here until someone finds us."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: Totally written and posted on the fly as I'm technically still on vacation. I'm happy these turned out as well as they have, but I tell you, avalanches are ungodly hard to describe in 100 words.<em>

_Thanks to my loverly beta **xladyjagsvolleyball16x **(who still needs to change that bloody penname) and to my equally loverly readers. I'm still working on real fictions for you, I swear! See you all next week! :)  
><em>

_**Edit:** One of my friends (not my beta) noted that I phrased Scotty's transport go-to incorrectly. For the sake of my friend's rather tiny brain I have fixed it, if only because said brain would implode if I didn't. (This is a person who's watched all forms of Trek since the age of four, and didn't know who Kim Jong Il was when he died.) I would like to note that my friend is a male. A straight male. I leave that to you.  
><em>


	15. Chapter 14

**Malodorous**

"Stuck."

Jim gave a small sigh. "Yes, Spock, stuck." With a low groan of effort, he heaved himself from the floor and onto his feet. Somehow he felt he couldn't blame Spock for his disbelieving tone; after all, it wasn't _his _fault they were in this cave.

Well, not _exactly_ his fault.

"We need somewhere else to bunker down," Jim went on, feeling around. There was a passage to his right that, although nothing could be said of looks, didn't smell terrible.

Jim smirked, remembering a line from _Lord of the Rings_. _When in doubt, Meriadoc_, _always follow your nose._

* * *

><p><strong>Chemiluminescent<strong>

Even in the near-pitch, Spock's eyes were still functioning, albeit at low levels. He watched as Kirk unbuckled a regulation light stick from his belt, snapped it, and shook it vigorously. The cavern slowly filled with harsh, neon blue light, and Spock winced despite the slow climb in light level.

Perhaps one of the rocks had hit his head on the way down, he mused. It would explain his aversion to light, for one thing.

"Hey."

Spock looked up at Kirk's extended hand. "Come on," the captain said, voice soft.

Spock resisted the help and stood of his own accord.

* * *

><p><strong>Stalactite<strong>

_Okay, _Jim thought, _I probably deserved that._

They were walking in the tunnel, which was fairly linear and had plateaued twenty meters back. Spock was well ahead of the glowstick but not out of sight; the back of his scuffed uniform tunic occasionally glowed bluer than normal.

_More than deserved that, _Jim went silently, no longer looking for somewhere to bed down. _I've given him the cold shoulder for over two weeks, and I expect him to be friendly?_

The cave roof suddenly dipped and Jim knocked his head on a protruding rock. "Fuck," he hissed, and rubbed his skull.

* * *

><p><strong>Irriguous<strong>

Spock heard the thunk, heard Kirk curse, but he ignored both noises and took five steps forward. Settling into a crouch, he touched his fingertips lightly against the smooth stone walls, feeling for any hint of water. The method was utterly inefficient compared to his tricorder, he knew, but he needed the tricorder charged for as long as possible, if—

Two things happened at once. First, the rock under Spock's fingers felt wetter than before. Second, out of his peripheral vision, he noted a subtle change in light level. When he turned to look, his eyes widened.

"Captain, come look."

* * *

><p><strong>Haimish<strong>

Jim was nursing his wound when Spock called. Irritated, he started slowly over, grumbling "What now?" When Spock merely pointed, Jim wanted to swear again. "Jesus, Spock, can't you just say what—"

That's when he turned and looked. Put simply, his jaw dropped.

It was an enormous, underground oasis. The walls were covered with all kinds of flora, soft ivy and a myriad of mushrooms, and the massive, crater-in-the-floor pool hosted countless extraterrestrial fish. Most stunningly, the cavern walls and ceiling were littered with hundreds of small, glowing mushrooms, every one emitting the same blue light as the glowstick.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: I think I may have said this before, but these had to have been the hardest to write, which is why this took me so bloody long. This is probably why I never liked padding my essays to meet the word limit; if you can just write "they found a pretty looking cave to bunker down in" then what else do people need? Though I did like describing said cave. Needless to say the idea of neon blue lighting has inspired several ideas, some pertinent to the plot of this thing...<em>

_One more thing, and don't shoot me for this either, please! I'm going to be dragged to visit relatives out of state, and I don't know how long I'll be gone. There's literally no internet where I'll be going whatsoever, so wherever I wind up I'll be utterly unable to post next week's set if I'm gone that long.  
><em>

_So...thanks to **xladyjagsvolleyball16x **for beta'ing and to all my readers (so essentially everyone) for sticking around! :D  
><em>


	16. Chapter 15

**Complacent**

"Oh my god." Kirk let out a small laugh, suddenly pushing past Spock and into the entryway of the cavern. He spread his arms wide and spun on the spot, looking up at the ceiling and wearing the most peculiar smile Spock had ever seen plastered to his face. "This is _beautiful!"_

Though Spock agreed, he proceeded more cautiously. "The walls are worn smooth," he noted, hand pressed flat on bare wall. "Perhaps too smooth. This cavern may be artificially engineered."

"Who cares right now, Spock?" Kirk asked, now craning his neck to look in the pool. "We've got _shelter."_

* * *

><p><strong>Syllogistic<br>**

"Yes, we have shelter," Spock agreed irritably. "We still have no idea how deep underground we are, whether the away team saw us running, or whether there are other, _larger_ predators within this system. We could easily be killed without any of the crew knowing. "

One of the fish pirouetted out and back into the water, and Jim held in a giggle.

"Are you even _remotely_ listening to me?" Spock demanded heatedly.

Jim nodded. "Heard every word you said." It was the smartest thing to say; he'd never heard his first officer sound so close to being blatantly pissed.

* * *

><p><strong>Acerbic<strong>

Resisting the urge to gnash his teeth, Spock strode towards one of the ivy-covered walls and began to sever blankets of ivy and lay them down, quite literally by hand. Phaser blasts were too strong and even more wasteful, and in any case physical exertion cleared his mind.

The clarity made it too easy to hear when Kirk spoke up, rather timidly. "Can I help?"

_Help, _Spock thought bitterly. It was Kirk's "help"that brought them underground, isolated from their crew, and Spock hated him now for it. "I do _not _require assistance," Spock spat.

There was a pause. "Oh."

* * *

><p><strong>Compunction<strong>

The next four hours dragged on, and to Jim it felt even longer. The childish joy he'd felt finding the cave had long since dissolved, its loss occasionally compounded by Spock's sharp rebuttals of aid and complete aversion of physical proximity.

So Jim huddled in a back corner of the cave, staring at his shoes. His stomach ached from guilt, worse than when he'd jacked off to Spock's image. What had he been thinking, playing the hero like he'd done at the Academy? All he'd done was fuck things up. Again.

He was a centimeter from breaking down in tears.

* * *

><p><strong>Schism<strong>

_Twenty-two point eight cubic meters precisely_, Spock thought,_ for bedding. _His entire upper body, hands in particular, burned with lactic acid and a sense of satisfaction. The two made an oddly appropriate pair.

Hoisting a bundle of ivy into his arms, Spock looked around for Kirk. When he finally spotted him, the captain was curled in a corner of the cave, staring at the floor. Spock unceremoniously tossed the bundle to the floor by Kirk's feet. The human's eyes gave a microscopic flicker of acknowledgment before resuming their original blank stare.

Spock slept on the opposite side of the cave.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: Back! As expected, no internet where I was, so pardon the week-late update. <em>_Not sure how much I like "Compunction"; I feel like Jim's misery is only looked at from the surface. Then again, it is a drabble. And __we're getting closer to something big, I promise! I can't resist the inevitable anyway.  
><em>

_Thanks to all my readers and to my lovely beta **xladyjags...x **for putting up with me. (Sorry I had to shorten your name, hon, but honest, it needs to be shorter.) Enjoy!_


	17. Chapter 16

**Cathexis**

_It's all my fault, _Jim thought bitterly, still curled in his corner. _If I hadn't opened my big, stupid mouth, Spock and I would still be friends and not…whatever we are now._

_You'd still love him, _a small voice in his head countered. _And he would've found out about that eventually anyway._

_Love him, _he spat. _How can I love him when he treats me like shit? I've fucked up a lot the past month, I know, but that doesn't mean he has to shove me into a fucking iceberg!_

Jim fell asleep soon after, wishing desperately for Bones's company.

* * *

><p><strong>Industrious<strong>

Spock jerked awake, barely checking his movement in time to keep from ramming into cave wall. Eight hours of sleep, and yet he felt enervated. His head turned just enough to catch Kirk's image in his peripheral vision. The captain was fast asleep, still curled on his side, lips parted slightly as he snored.

The fury from the night before nearly swallowed him whole. Kirk—arrogant, overly emotional, lascivious, utterly unprofessional Kirk that had stuck them here and said he loved—

_Not now,_ Spock thought. He shoved the fury down and sat up slowly, pulling his tricorder from his belt.

* * *

><p><strong>Snag<strong>

"Captain."

Jim's voice betrayed his grogginess. "Whatchoo want?"

"I have discovered a new fact about our…current circumstances."

Something twinged low in Jim's stomach. "Good or bad news, Commander?"

"Bad."

Reluctantly Jim opened his eyes. Spock was sitting cross-legged a yard in front of him, brow furrowed as he stared at the tricorder in his lap. "I attempted to get some readings on our surroundings," he said evenly, "in an attempt to plot an escape route. But look at this."

Spock turned the tricorder towards him. It only took a second for Jim to comprehend the data and swear about it.

* * *

><p><strong>Expletive<strong>

Spock tried to block out the more colorful of Kirk's expletives. "How the hell," roared the captain, "are we getting _that _much interference?"

"There are two logical options," Spock replied, much more calmly. "The first, that the atmosphere of this planet is ionized. However, since we have had communications topside, this cannot be the case."

Kirk groaned, grabbing the tricorder. "What's the other option?"

Their fingers brushed as the tricorder changed hands. Out of reflex, Spock snatched his hand away before speaking again. "Terromagnetic properties in the stone above us are interfering with tricorder scanning and communications."

Kirk swore again.

* * *

><p><strong>Contingency<strong>

Jim ran a hand through his hair and tried not to tug it. How could he be so fucking _stupid?_ He should've known from the start that Bones would have contacted him as soon as he and Spock had been registered missing. He put his head in his hands. Fucking. _Idiot!_

"We had best get moving."

Jim looked up. Spock was standing, fixing his belt and prepping his phaser. "Go?" Jim said stupidly.

"You said yourself that we are 'stuck' until someone finds us, _or_ we discover our own exit." Spock shot him a pointed look.

Jim sighed. "Let's go."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: First of all, I know I'm a week late, give or take a few hours. And I'm really, <em>really_ sorry. But that also leads into what I need to put into these author's notes. I'm going to college soon. Y'all know that. And my schedule is going to be as messed up as a child with Oedipus syndrome. From this point on I can no longer confidently say I  
><em>have _a schedule, and I am going to have to post sporadically from this point on. Very likely you'll only see me update once a month with an actual piece of story. I'm sorry to have to do this, but I don't think I'm going to find a better way to deal with workloads from all sides._

_Thanks to everyone who's read these through to this point, including the author's notes. Thanks to my lovely beta **xladyjagsvolleyball16x **for all her help and support just running over these things with the Editing Truck. I swear that this is not going to be the last you see of me. Go forth and enjoy other things meantime.  
><em>


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